


The Things We Want To Keep

by Eikaron



Series: The Things We Remember [3]
Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Dark, Flashback, Gen, Gun Violence, Holocaust, Memories, Nazis, Original Character(s), Shoah, Threats of Violence, Trauma, World War II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-22
Updated: 2019-05-22
Packaged: 2020-03-09 19:04:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18923167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eikaron/pseuds/Eikaron
Summary: It's always the little things, thinks Crowley when he sees them walk by in their light blue dress, never the big ones. Not the rise of right-wing parties all over Europe, with their familiar rhetoric and even more familiar proposals, not costumes or documentaries, nor a random medal sold on a flea-market. Those are things that remind him, things that he knows, but they don't take him back the way a certain smell can. A voice. The colour of someone's dress.





	The Things We Want To Keep

Crowley is sitting in his favourite café when it happens; drinking espresso and watching people try to pick up the coins he glued to the sidewalk. It's what he does on lazy days and it never fails to amuse him.

It's always the little things, thinks Crowley when he sees them walk by in their light blue dress, never the big ones. Not the rise of right-wing parties all over Europe, with their familiar rhetoric and even more familiar proposals, not costumes or documentaries, nor a random medal sold on a flea-market. Those are things that _remind_ him, things that he knows, but they don't take him back the way a certain smell can. A voice. The colour of someone's dress.

It was a blue polka dot dress. The exact same hue, he'll never forget it. In the dark woods at dawn it was not as conspicuous as red or yellow would have been, yet it was still all too visible.

 

###

 

_Run run run don't stop keep running_

Crowley wishes he could stop feeling it, but he knows he mustn't, always has to know where they are so he can lead his comrades astray. It's too strong to tune out anyway, their entire beings thrumming with fear; projecting it across the forest, through trees and brooks and bushes until it hits Crowley wave after wave. Demons can feel human desire if they choose to; it's his job to know what they want. These ones want only to run. To dash and race and bolt, stumble and nearly fall, to just keep running until they are safe, until all of them are safe.

A flash of red between the trees; the others see it too.

_Run run run_

"There!", yells Hans and they speed up with their hands wrapped tightly around their rifles, running up a hill, sliding down into the ditch on the other side. Crowley trips over a stone on purpose, lands in the beck with a splash and a swear; Fritz pulls him up almost immediately. It is enough. 

_Escape escape escape_

"Damn it!", Karl curses and looks around wildly, "Which way?"

Like on command they all fall dead silent, straining their ears and listening for the treacherous sounds of feet on leaves, panting, crying. Crowley listens with his other senses too and knows he has to make a decision, quickly. They are splitting up.

"This way!", he orders them, pointing into a direction none of them are going yet and darts off. "They can't have gone far!"

The men follow their leader, those men with sharp haircuts and even sharper rifles.

"Won't they head deeper into the woods?", gasps Karl.

He is short of breath. Good.

Crowley shakes his head. He's leading them towards the road. 

"No", he says confidently. "They'll go where they think we won't look. Trust me on this, I know how the vermin thinks. But they can't outsmart us."

They can't outsmart us, but I can outsmart you, he adds silently. Their fear is growing fainter and fainter. He'll have to come up with excuses, reasons why they failed. Why it wasn't his fault. He can always make them forget, of course, but he has to be careful not to do this too often. Below has been keeping closer tabs on him lately.

_Get away don't stop keep running_

Crowley blesses in his head. One of them, just one, is getting stronger again. Rapidly. He blesses again. 

Hans stops dead, holds up his hand. 

"Wait, I think I heard something."

They all stand still; it would be suspicious if he didn't. Branches cracking, leaves rustling. It sounds close. All of a sudden it stops. They wait for more of the treacherous, treacherous noise, but none is coming. Karl grins. The officers look at each other silently. Crowley tilts his head in the direction the cracks and rustles are coming from, he has to. They walk slowly this time, quietly; sneaking up on whoever thought hiding was a good idea.

_don't make a sound don't make a sound be still just freeze_

Crowley spots her first, catches a glimpse of white dots on light blue between blueberry bushes. He hears her staccato breathing too, smells her fear. She just couldn't run anymore. They pass her once, twice, circling the area; their heavy boots remaining nearly silent on a carpet of needles. Everyone has their rifle cocked and ready.

When he walks past her for the first time, they lock eyes. His own are red-rimmed and tired, hers blown wide, staring at him from under the bush. Crowley looks right through her. He knows that she knows he has seen her, wondering what she'll make of it, but right now in this moment all he cares about is that she mercifully stays silent.

Crowley turns his head left, right, left again; just in time to see Hans' hand hit Fritz across the chest.

"There."

Hans points smugly at the tiny piece of blue polka dot dress visible in the thicket. Crowley thinks it's her sleeve. Hans sneers and lifts his rifle.

"I can see you!", he shouts menacingly, "Get up!"

"We've got her, Karl!", yells Crowley because he has to and they all draw closer, surrounding her.

Shaking, the girl stands up, holding up her hands. She can't be more than seventeen, thinks Crowley. The blond hair framing her tearstained face has become tangled and messy. Needles and red leaves are stuck in it.

"Please", she sobs, "please don't."

"Thought you could escape us, huh?", says Hans with a grin that is making Crowley sick to his stomach. He looks eagerly at the others when he asks them: "May I do the honours? I haven't yet…"

Hans doesn't finish the sentence, but he doesn't have to. Technically Crowley isn't his superior, but they have tasked him with leading the group and so he smirks and nods and walks to stand beside Hans, to watch. Keeping up the pretence. 

He raises his eyebrows at Fritz and Karl, a questioning look that isn't a real question, merely rhetorical. When they don't object Crowley clasps his hands behind his back.

"Do it", he says coldly.

One more thing, he can try one more thing, there is one more thing he can do. Desperately, Crowley wriggles his fingers.

With Fritz standing next to him – grinning proudly at his friend – Hans lifts the rifle. The girl just stands there; crying, paralysed. Her shooter takes aim.

They almost miss the sudden creaking sound.

"Watch out!", screams Karl, scrambling backwards and then Fritz grabs Hans and pulls him out of the way at the last moment and then Crowley's shouting too and the tall spruce falls down harmlessly between them and their victim.

It gives her only a few precious, chaotic seconds, but those are enough. She's running and while Karl and Hans and Fritz are still sorting themselves out Crowley jumps to his feet and lifts his own rifle and shoots her straight in the back.

The cracking sound rings through the woods. Birds no one even noticed before suddenly take flight. The girl in the blue dress stumbles; one, two, three steps and she falls down, dark red blood spreading through the fabric on her back. She did not get far.

Hans looks both disappointed and slightly shaken by their own near-death experience when they walk towards her body; Crowley leading the way. He gives it a kick and bends down for a cursory examination. 

"Dead", he declares. He spits on the ground for good measure. 

"Good shot, Anton", says Fritz admiringly. "Smack dab in the middle."

"Yeah", agrees Karl. "I mean damn! I hadn't even realised she was running yet!"

Crowley nods and gets up.

"Sorry", he says and pats Hans on the shoulder apologetically, "had to act fast there. Don't worry, you'll get your chance."

They all turn to look back at the fallen spruce. Crowley whistles and shakes his head. "That was some bad luck there with the tree, lads", he says, "And to think she almost got away too!"

"No one escapes your aim, though", says Karl admiringly and gives Crowley a clap on the back that he wants to wipe off afterwards. "You're way too fast."

"Should we take the body back?", asks Fritz. He gives the corpse another kick.

Crowley snorts and shakes his head.

"Nah. What for? She's dead, we've all seen it. Why bother with the extra weight? Let the animals have her. At least that way the bitch is good for something."

They all laugh and head back, shivering in the chilly morning air. Time for breakfast.

Behind them, the girl in the blue polka dot dress is still breathing. In a few hours she will wake up, unharmed, her dress full of blood but no wound to go with it and with only a hazy memory of what happened to her. Her parents will call it a miracle.

Because, deep down, Crowley knows that you don't have to be human to have some humanity. And he intends to keep his.


End file.
